


The Temptation of Debbie Jellinsky

by sybildenny



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Adult Content, Canon Rewrite, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Masturbation, Movie: Addams Family Values (1993), Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybildenny/pseuds/sybildenny
Summary: Debbie Jellinsky thought it would be easy to seduce a married man so soon after his wife had given birth. She hadn't counted on him genuinely loving her. The plan gets more complicated when she decides to settle for his brother, only to become increasingly fixated on Morticia.OR: if the second Addams Family movie was about Debbie mistaking an open marriage for a housewife who needs rescuing
Relationships: Fester Addams/Debbie Jellinsky, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Morticia Addams/Debbie Jellinsky
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	1. Moribund

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you realize no one has written the fic you want to read, so you end up writing it. Thus begins my evil mission to make everyone appreciate the potential for Debbie/Morticia as much as I do.

Debbie Jellinsky had pretended to be many things in her lifetime. A dental assistant. A lawyer. Happily married. She had never been in a position where she had to pretend to like children. This was truly a new low for the talented con woman.

She looked around, taking in the bleak view before succumbing to her need for money and lifting the menacing-looking knocker. It fell against the door with a satisfying thud. The sound reminded her of her most recent lover’s unfortunate demise. Bookshelves really should be properly secured to walls.

The house looked like a dump, but at least it had some design potential. After she bagged her next target she would be able to afford to cover the chipped exterior with a fresh coat of paint and hire a landscaper to revive the dead grass in the yard.

Her foot was in the doorway the minute it creaked open. Entering the house right away always confused people a bit. Debbie found that going on the offensive like that confused them enough that they wouldn’t ask too many nosy questions.

“Hi! Addams residence?” She called, then muttered to herself,” Oh, it’s old.”

As her eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight, she realized the statue next to her was actually some sort of very tall man.

“And _big_.”

He offered her a lopsided smile that did nothing to help the ways in which he resembled a slightly-dehydrated corpse.

“Lurch,” a soft-spoken voice chided from the staircase. Debbie wasn’t sure if it was his name or an order, but he straightened his back and returned to his stoic position.

The woman who’d issued the statement stood at the top of a large staircase looking like something out of a black and white movie. Or an ad for a funeral home.

Clad in all black, she descended from the staircase in small, delicate steps. Debbie was willing to bet money that her figure was the work of some sort of shapewear. It was difficult to believe that it had been mere months since the woman before her had given birth.

“Oh _hi!_ I’m Debbie Jellinsky. From the agency.

“The agency? But they claimed no one else was available.”

Debbie had been plotting her next move in a coffee shop when she overheard two nannies who worked for the same agency bemoaning a local family that both had very briefly been employed by.

The Addamses, if the rumors were to be believed, were better off with a prison warden than a nanny. Infanticidal children. Carnivorous house plants. Some sort of animatronic disembodied hand. One woman had to leave the agency altogether after spending a handful of days living with the family.

Their description of the couple was what had caught Debbie’s attention. One of them commented that with as needy as the husband was, his wife must have been denying him sex long before the baby was born. They were a wealthy family that paid well, but no amount of money could entice either to return. In their words, the wife was torturing him with her dispassion.

All of that affection needed to go somewhere, and who was Debbie to deny him what he craved?

“Surprise! I’ve been out of town. Are you the mom?”

“I’m Mrs. Addams.”

“I love your dress. It’s so… _tight_.”

God, was it tight. If Gomez was a dud, she wouldn’t be above trying her hand at getting in with Morticia. She wasn’t picky, as long as her potential spouse had a large life insurance policy.

The woman gave her an amused smile, but her attention shifted before she could say anything more.

“Gomez! I believe we may have a new nanny. Miss Jellinsky.”

“Deb,” she smiled, offering the man her hand. It was such a suburban name, Debbie. But it was safe. Easy for her to remember. “I can show you all my references so you know I’m not a homicidal maniac.”

Gomez waved her words away before she could produce the resume she’d so lovingly forged. All of that work for nothing.

“Of course not,” Morticia said with a tilt of her head.

“You’re too young,” Gomez agreed.

She bit back her annoyance at having her life’s work doubted. In time she would show them how wrong they were. 

* * *

  
The children were maniacs. She hadn’t even made it through the house tour without an attempt being made on the baby’s life. Of course, she could hardly blame them. It was a disgusting maggot of a child. _Pubert_. What a horrific name. 

Although she was here to steal her husband, Debbie couldn’t help but sympathize with Morticia. From what she’d seen in the few hours since her arrival, Gomez was an imbecile. What must it be like, trapped with that man and his horrible mustache? Once they were together she would have to force him to shave.

When she was eavesdropping on the former nannies she’d assumed some level of metaphor was being used to describe the house of horrors. If anything, they'd undersold what the place was like. Debbie felt reluctantly at home among the cobwebs and traps that littered the manor.  
Pugsley was as disappointing as his father, but Debbie couldn’t help but recognize a bit of herself in Wednesday. Even at such a young age, she was wise enough to try to rid herself of both troublesome siblings.

Walking through the damp basement hallway as Morticia guided her to her new quarters, she found herself dreaming up ways to encourage Wednesday. If the child’s murder attempts were successful it would mean less work for the nanny.

No. She needed to focus. She was here to ruin a marriage, not find a protege.

Her bedroom was little more than a dungeon. They’d passed a pillory on the way to her room, which Morticia had insisted was a type of wellness device. Debbie assumed it was really used for some sort of kink thing.

Or maybe she just stuck Gomez there when she was sick of the smell of cigar smoke and near-constant neck kissing.

“Goodnight, Debbie,” Morticia said in her ghostly-soft voice, peering through the bars of her totally-not-a-jail-cell. Debbie wondered if she ever yelled at anyone. If she was physically capable of raising her voice. “Scream if you need anything.”

The click of a lock turning from the other side of her door cemented the finality of her decision to stay with the family. It was quite possible that she couldn’t leave them even if she wanted to now. Rather than worry about her own safety, she was excited. It felt like a death match of sorts. This was the kind of challenge she liked.

Staring up at the moss that clung to her stone ceiling, she was haunted by Morticia’s eyes as she shut the door. Debbie wondered if she always looked so morose. If she was lucky, it was a sign that the baby had led to some sort of upset in Morticia and Gomez’s marriage.

She traced the outline of her clit against her underwear as she considered her odds. A husband and wife, torn apart by their children’s constant attempts on their new child’s life. Over time she would plant seeds of doubt, slowly prying Gomez from Morticia’s arms in order to create her own opportunities. Spurring on fights and pouring poison in both spouse’s ears, it would only be a matter of time until she was warming a bed no longer in the basement.

The skirt of her dress slid across her thigh when she repositioned, making room for her hand to travel lower. She bit her lower lip, pressing her fingertips into the wet fabric that clung to the curves of her labia. A small murmur of a moan grew in her chest as she continued, fueled by thoughts of betrayal and adultery.

When she closed her eyes to block out her bleak surroundings, Morticia’s somber gaze was burned into the darkness.


	2. Meretricious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In that moment she felt a certain kinship with Gomez, suddenly understanding why he spoke about his wife with such reverence."

The constant smiling was beginning to make her cheeks ache. Things were moving slower than she anticipated, and she was starting to regret crafting such a chipper persona. This sort of emotionally grueling work was why she’d chosen murder over waitressing. Death she could handle, but she lacked the stamina to keep up the cheerful ruse required for customer service.

“That’s enough, Thing,” Debbie sighed.

A disembodied hand dropped to the floor beneath her skirt, its fingers leaving wet fingerprints as it made its way across the room. At least she was having an easy time conserving her vibrator batteries. 

Thing gave an impatient tap on the hardwood.

“Next time, I promise. I just don’t have time right now.”

Standing in front of the small mirror that hung in her cozy dungeon bedroom, she reapplied her lipstick and rouge to conceal any traces of flush. Gomez and Morticia didn’t seem to care how she spent her downtime, but keeping her activities secret made them all the more fun. 

The children were out of school for the summer, but Morticia insisted that they get private lessons to encourage their growth. Debbie knew very little about what was appropriate subject matter for children. Her lessons ranged from making poisons to the murder of Rasputin.

Any other family would have raised concern about what she was teaching. The Addamses seemed to want her to push the lessons even further. When she discussed Vlad the Impaler, Morticia insisted the children make a craft lesson out of how to properly impale a head on a spike. Wednesday’s use of fake blood, while impressive, was almost more than Debbie could stomach.

“Hi Debbie!” Pugsley appeared next to her, medieval mace in hand, as she climbed the stairs.

“Hello Pugsley!” Debbie returned with a cheek-aching grin. 

Although they looked nothing alike, she could see Gomez’s jovial demeanor mirrored in Pugsley. It was honestly quite irritating to have two of them around.

“What are we learning today?” Wednesday called in a monotone voice from the top of the stairs. She had a bow in her hand and was notching an arrow as she spoke. 

Debbie slowed her pace so that she wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire when Wednesday tried to hit Pugsley. Gomez and Morticia had asked her to look out for the baby but encouraged her to let Wednesday and Pugsley have at each other. It built character, they insisted.

As long as they kept her out of it, Debbie didn’t care what they did to each other. Not that she was concerned about keeping Pubert safe, either.

“I thought we could learn about the Reign of Terror.”

Wednesday lowered the bow, if only slightly.  
  
“I like terror.”

It sounded sarcastic, but she could see a shine of interest in the young girl’s eye. Debbie was pleased. She would never admit it, but she enjoyed trying to pick gruesome subjects that she thought the children would enjoy.

“Rain of terror?” Pugsley asked, swinging the mace absentmindedly as they walked to the children’s study. “Like acid rain?”

She didn’t have to force her laughter when she responded to Pugsley. He was horrible and obnoxious, but he did make her laugh.

“Not that kind of rain, sweetie. It’s something that happened after the French Revolution. The people in charge decided to deal with any threat to power by sentencing their enemies to death by guillotine.”

“Guillotine?” Wednesday had fully lowered her bow now. Debbie could see the cogs turning in her head as an idea sparked to life.

“That’s right,” she smiled, prepared to encourage Wednesday’s malicious thoughts. “If both of you behave, we might even have time to make one big enough to practice executing fruits you don’t like or something like that.”

“Or _someone_ ,” Wednesday corrected her.

Debbie pretended not to hear her. If her plan worked she would need some level of deniability. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t encourage the children to kill their sibling outright.

Curse that surprisingly hardy infant. In her plans, she’d assumed the children would have been successful by now. If she couldn’t poison Gomez and Morticia’s marriage with infanticide, she would have to explore other options.

* * *

It was nearly impossible to get a moment alone with Gomez. He and his idiot brother, who was built like a sentient refrigerator, were nearly inseparable. After two decades apart, the pair was almost always up to some foolishness in an attempt to regain their misplaced youth.

Luckily for Debbie, Fester was busy today. He’d met a beautiful woman online and was out waiting for her at a morgue for their date. If everything went according to plan, he’d get arrested while waiting for his fictional woman to make an appearance.

Gomez was alone in his office when Debbie finally found him. A long strand of ticker tape curled to the floor as he watched the numbers change. She had no idea what he did for a living. 

“Is everything going well?” She asked, looking at the machine in front of Gomez.

“Record losses!” He grinned. “The market is crashing.”

“How wonderful!”

It made no sense to celebrate, but she wasn’t there to talk stocks. Walking closer, she peered at the paper in his hands. Numbers that she didn’t care to understand alerted Gomez of each change in value.

Setting down the ribbon of paper, he looked up at her from his desk chair.

“How are things going with Pubert and the children?”

“Oh, just fine,” she lied.

“A moment of peace, at last.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Bother me? Why would Cousin Itt bother me? He’s delightful.”

She had no idea what he was babbling about.

“No, I mean,” she took a deep breath to cool her anger, “Do you have a difficult time now that the baby is home?”

“Oh, _that_ it. I’m running out of cigars faster, that’s for sure. The little devil has expensive tastes.”

“Oh Gomez, you’re so funny,” Debbie tittered, placing a hand on his forearm. “I don’t know how Morticia can resist your charm.”

It was a large house, and voices carried. She’d overheard Morticia talking to her mother about how she and Gomez weren’t having sex because of the pain of giving birth. The inability was driving Gomez wild with desire.

“You know, wards, spells. The odd moonlit ritual. They’re very effective.”

God, it was like talking to a quirky sitcom character. She was going to have to shed the pretense if she was going to get any of what she was saying through his thick head.

“Listen, Gomez. I’ve been thinking, and it really is a shame that your needs aren’t being met right now. You’re neglected. Uncared for.”

“I am?”

“You are. And I’ve been thinking about it, trying to dream up some way to repay you when you’ve been so good to me.”

He removed his arm from her grasp.

“And what have you come up with?”

Debbie was too wrapped up in trying to appear sensual to register the dangerous tone in his voice.

“I would never be selfish enough to deny your needs like that. Maybe w—”

“You seem to have misunderstood the situation, Miss Jellinsky.”

Gomez stood, putting ample space between the two of them.

“Have I?” Debbie tried to sound innocent, heart pounding in her chest. SHe’d rushed things too much and now she was about to be fired. It would take forever to start over with another man.

“My wife is many things, but not selfish. Never selfish. I would wait through a decade of celibacy as penance for the pain Pubert’s birth has brought her. She is a goddess, and I must pay my tithe.”

He spoke with such passion that she almost wanted to fuck him. But lust quickly gave way to annoyance as she translated his melodramatic speech.

“Are you fucking kidding me? _You’re_ rejecting _me_? Is Morticia really so special?”

She immediately regretted the outburst. Her cheerful facade had fallen for one crucial moment. Gomez Addams had now seen her for the snake she was. He stared at her for a moment before finally speaking.

“Hear me now, Debbie Jellinsky,” Gomez warned in a low voice. “Every day with Morticia is exquisite agony, and I would have it no other way. If you wish to hear an ill word spoken against her, you shan’t find it here. You are employed here by my wife’s good grace. Do not cross her.”

“Are you threatening me, Mister Addams?” She tried her best to sound more confident than she felt, thrown off by the conviction with which he spoke about his wife. 

“Threats?” Gomez laughed. “Of course not. Consider it a bit of practical advice. Tish is hell with a saber, and you should hope to never find yourself on the other end of it.”

* * *

  
The warning Gomez had given her played on repeat as she waited for the tea to steep. It was some sort of custom blend the family had shipped in from a European town whose name she couldn’t pronounce. The ingredient list was in another language, but the blend smelled suspiciously of graveyard dirt. Debbie had seen enough in her few weeks at the Addams residence to know better than ask questions.

A few clusters of small white flowers stuck out among the tea leaves that could plausibly be taken from dead flowers at a cemetery. Debbie smiled at her botanical improvement. It was a lucky thing she’d found the large bush growing on the edge of the property.

If approaching Gomez directly didn’t work and that disgusting fetus refused to die, Debbie would have to manufacture her own tragedy. Gomez would need a shoulder to cry on once Morticia mysteriously ran off, and Debbie would be there to comfort him.

Removing the tea strainer, she carefully sifted through the wet leaves, gathering the flowers she’d added to the mix. When she was certain she’d removed all of them, she washed the evidence down the drain and scrubbed her hands twice for good measure. The remaining leaves she threw away to ensure no one accidentally came into contact with her custom blend.

Navigating the greenhouse with a teacup in hand proved to be more difficult than poisoning a cup of tea. Cleopatra, Morticia’s carnivorous plant, hadn’t grown used to Debbie’s presence yet and took a few halfhearted snaps at her as she passed. She made a note to herself that maybe Cleopatra could be goaded into eating Pubert.   
  
“Morticia, I—” she came to a halt when she saw Morticia standing a few feet away with a cluster of roses, pruning shears in hand.  
  
It was almost hypnotic watching the way she beheaded the flower, each cluster of petals tumbling to the floor as she worked. One lucky rose bounced from Morticia’s breast before joining its brethren on the cold, stone floor. When she looked up from her work it was like something out of a painting, the sunlight splaying across both eyes.

“Hello there, Debbie. Did you need something?”

“Your, uh, tea,” Debbie mumbled foolishly, holding out the cup and saucer in her hand.

“How kind of you.”

Debbie smiled at the compliment, the irony of the statement touching something deep in her heart that she had no time to examine. She needed to leave before anyone saw them together, but she was overcome with curiosity.

“What are you doing?” She asked, gesturing toward the roses that littered the floor of the greenhouse.

“Oh, that,” Morticia gave her a small smile before taking a sip from the cup Debbie had handed her. “I’m making a new centerpiece for the table. Roses brighten up the place a bit much for my liking, but their thorns are quite beautiful.”

Of course Morticia would hate roses but love their thorns. This house existed in some sort of eternal Opposite Day. Rather than some of the family’s more annoying traits, however, Debbie couldn’t help but find it a bit endearing.

“I’m sure it will look lovely.”

Morticia nodded.

“Was there anything else you needed? Navigating this part of the house is a lot of work just to deliver some tea.”

“Oh, uh. You asked me to notify you if the children made any more attempts on the baby’s life.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Morticia drink more of her tea. She needed to leave but was having a hard time dragging herself away from the conversation.

“Ah,” the frown that wrinkled Morticia’s brow seemed out of place on her smooth, porcelain skin. “What was it this time?”

“Guillotine, can you believe it? Heaven knows where they got an idea like that.”

Morticia gave her an icy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I might have an inkling.”

It was a moment before Debbie could find the words she needed to speak.

“Can I…” She pointed at one of the rose heads in an effort to divert Morticia’s attention. They were a beautiful shade of red, nearly the color of freshly-spilled blood. “May I take one? They look much better once they’ve dried out enough.”  
With a look of strange amusement, Morticia gestured to the petals strew across the floor.  
  
“Take as many as you wish. I have no use for them.”

A single rose was all she needed. Delicately, she picked up the rose that had made brief contact with Morticia’s chest. It was purely unintentional, of course.

Clutching the rose to her chest with a possessive grip, she turned to leave. Debbie felt as though she was the one who had just been poisoned, knees trembling with each uncertain step. In that moment she felt a certain kinship with Gomez, suddenly understanding why he spoke about his wife with such reverence.

“Oh, and Debbie?” Morticia called after her.

With a weak smile, she turned to face Morticia, wanting desperately to leave before she was forced to watch the other woman collapse from the effects of the tea. The thought of her death suddenly felt devoid of joy.  
  
“Yes, Mrs. Addams?”

“More hemlock next time, please. It was a wonderful touch.”

“Y-yes, of course.”

Debbie narrowly fled the room before vomiting in a nearby vase. She frowned at the rose in her hand, whose delicate petals had been crushed with the strength of her grasp as she heaved. There were going to have to be some big changes around the house in order for her plan to succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on The Temptation of Debbie Jellinsky: Fester has a date, Debbie has some wine, and Gomez has a rival.
> 
> For story updates and general shenanigans, you can find both my tumblr and twitter @ cumkills

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, thank you. For updates on this and other project shenanigans, you can follow me on tumblr or twitter @ cumkills or on my shiny new instagram @ saintsybil.
> 
> Fic updates will probably be a bit sporadic, but I already have the whole thing outlined so it's definitely happening.


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